


Halos are for Angels (Part One)

by cassbuttandsquirrel



Series: Barkeep POV [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Memories, Donnie's POV, Gen, POV Outsider, Rated teen for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbuttandsquirrel/pseuds/cassbuttandsquirrel
Summary: An empty plate of nachos later and things have gotten quiet again. Dean’s visited the jukebox a couple more times, but now each selection is different. Donnie’s not going to bring it up, but he doesn’t recognise a single one. After such a trip, as Dean sits back in his seat and leans against the bar, he says:“Jukeboxes, man, they were my childhood.”
Relationships: Donnie (Supernatural: Inside Man) & Dean Winchester
Series: Barkeep POV [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769449
Comments: 4
Kudos: 84





	Halos are for Angels (Part One)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a Blanche Carter song from 1996. A reference to Donnie's creativity. 
> 
> [This fic did NOT go where I had planned. I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!]

It’s 5pm on a terribly slow Tuesday the next time Donnie looks up from a customer to see Dean making his way over to the bar. They realise at the same time that Dean’s regular seat has been taken by some raggedy old trucker type and Dean stops to make an exaggerated series of gestures behind the man’s back before rolling his eyes and dramatically dropping into the stool closest to the wall. A good day then. Donnie shoots him a grin before turning to pour out an IPA for the guy in Dean’s spot. 

Dean’s watching him, so Donnie reaches for the whiskey and waves it in the air in a question. 

Dean shakes his head and calls down the bar: “Surprise me!”, and Donnie salutes back at him. 

It takes a bit longer than usual for him to make it back to Dean. What with it being slow and all, he had let Melissa off early and he was manning the kitchen and bar alone. He brought the trucker and Charisse their respective orders of nachos and chili fries, making sure he made enough extra nacho toppings for when Dean inevitably gets snacky. 

When he ducks back out of the kitchen, Dean’s standing by the dusty old jukebox in the corner.

"Hey! This thing still work?”

“Yep - bit of a bitch to keep up though.”

“Sweet.” Dean nods appreciatively. “Yeah, that I fucking believe.”

Donnie leaves Dean to peruse his song choices as he focuses on making his drink. He hears a faint: “No shit!” before the rhythmic strains of some Led Zeppelin song began to fill the quiet roadhouse.

When he gets back to his seat Donnie has his drink waiting. Dean raises his eyebrows at the clear liquid before him garnished with a lemon and some mint.

He takes a sip, frowns and then takes another before blurting:

“This is just fucking water!”

“With lemon, mint and some ice cubes.”

“I cannot believe you just fucking served me goddamn water.”

“Are you not surprised?” Donnie does his best to imitate Russel Crowe. 

“Yeah of course I fucking am, holy shit dude.” Dean’s shaking water off his hands from where it splashed out of his cup. “Is this supposed to be some twisted revenge for last time?”

Donnie shrugs.

“Look, Donnie, you’ve peeled my drunk ass off this ledge more times than should be necessary. So thanks.” Dean at least has the decency to look a bit ashamed. “Honestly I have no idea how I even made it home.” He takes another sip of the water. “This creation got a name?”

“I call it the Angel’s Halo.” 

Dean breaks out laughing, almost choking as he tries hard to swallow. Tears are leaking from his eyes and the glass gets knocked over as he doubles over. Donnie swears and grabs a couple of rags to stop the puddle from spreading. Honestly, Donnie didn’t think it had been _that_ funny.

Dean mutters obscenities as he wipes his eyes. 

“You gotta serve these if I ever come in here with Cas.” 

Donnie hums. “Seems like a nice guy, Cas.”

Dean stills and looks up from where he’s been blotting at his damp jeans with his sleeve. “You met him?” His tone is almost accusatory and Donnie wonders if he’s overstepped. 

“He’s the one who picked you up last time.”

“Right. Yeah, of course.” Dean’s dismissal is suspiciously quick. The conversation dies awkwardly and Dean reaches for his water glass only to realise it’s empty. 

“You want something?” Donnie gestures behind him. 

“Yeah, give me the real stuff.” Dean’s voice is still distracted but he tosses Donnie a grin all the same. 

Donnie figures Dean means the whiskey but he pulls out a pint glass and draws him a pilsner instead. On his way back the trucker guy pulls him into conversation about neighbourhood housing prices and Donnie spends a good several minutes explaining that just because Kansas is home the geographical centre of the country doesn’t mean it’s the best place for every trucker in America. So sue him if he wants a bit of variety in his clientele. 

When he resurfaces from his discussion, Dean has his beer in his hand and he’s fiddling with the jukebox again, restarting the first track he had chosen that had played out some time after the spilled water. 

Dean makes it back to his seat and Donnie asks him about Led Zeppelin.

“Best band of all time, man.”

Donnie’s never felt a huge connection to the band himself.

“First the water, now this! It’s fucking Ramble On for fuck’s sakes!” He shakes his head despairingly, before launching into a comprehensive breakdown of all Zepp’s greatest hits with strict instructions on which album to listen to first. Donnie will never admit to zoning out for fear of his life, but he might have missed one or two things.

“Not a music guy.” Dean tsks as he drains the last of his beer. “Good thing your nachos are delicious.” He ducks his head and grins. “Speaking of…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Donnie rolls his eyes. “One of these days I should force you to make them yourself.” 

“Maybe one of these days you could!” Dean shoots him a finger gun. “And get me another beer!” 

Donnie’s already past the taps so he just flips Dean off above his head as he pushes into the kitchen. 

An empty plate of nachos later and things have gotten quiet again. Dean’s visited the jukebox a couple more times, but now each selection is different. Donnie’s not going to bring it up but he doesn’t recognise a single one. After one such trip as Dean sits back in his seat and leans against the bar he says:

“Jukeboxes, man, they were my childhood.”

Dean fucking Remington talking about his childhood. Donnie never thought he’d see the day. The man looks like he’s going to go quiet again but there’s no way in hell Donnie’s missing this chance.

“Oh yeah?” he nudges.

“Yeah. Me and my brother loved those things. Every shitty new diner we crashed at, or bar Dad slept in, we could count on there being a jukebox.” He picks at the beer mat. 

“You saying this place is shitty?”

“I’m not saying shitty is bad,” Dean raises his hands in defense, “but these places had some bad fucking mojo.” 

There was a lot to unpack there but Donnie decides to prod at what he hopes is the least sensitive topic. 

“You guys moved around a lot?”

“All the fucking time, man. After mom -- Sam and I didn’t have an actual house until I was way past the age of needing one. Sammy was probably 28 I think.” He barks out a laugh. “Longest that kid ever stayed in one place was for Stanford.”

“Sam went to Stanford?” Now that was a shocker. Smart kid like that, now in pest control?? Like he said before, un-fucking-likely. 

Dean shakes his head, “Nah, never graduated. Got a full ride though! Got all the fucking brains that kid.” 

Donnie always considered himself to be a pretty level headed guy, but all this new information was starting to make him feel giddy. He was trying to work his way around asking the mom question when a phone chimes and Dean pats down his pockets. Whatever the text said Donnie can’t see but he excuses himself citing the need for a call and then walks all the way outside. A bit weird seeing as both Charisse and trucker guy have left, but some people really want privacy. Again, you can always count on people to be fucking unusual. 

At this point it’s only half past 6 and Donnie feels like his stomach is sticking to his spine. Taking Dean’s absence as his allotted break, he hurries to the kitchen to make chili fries extravaganza - which was pretty much regular chili fries but additionally topped with whatever was left in the kitchen. Today it was olives, jalapenos and the last bits of guac from the tupperware.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it =D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Best, cassbuttandsquirrel
> 
> [Formatting errors are my own -- I promise to comb over this fic in the upcoming days. ]
> 
> Say hi on [ Twitter! ](https://twitter.com/librarian_gamer?s=07)


End file.
